


Second-Hand Heart

by basic_unicorn



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Communication, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Humor, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Minor Character Death, Movie AU, Romance, Second Chances, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:53:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29016924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basic_unicorn/pseuds/basic_unicorn
Summary: An AU roughly based on the movie, Return to MeOn a rainy night in Boston, a car wreck sets off a series of events that rob the world of two lonely souls.While Rumford Gold receives news of a shattered ankle and a dead wife in the ER of the Massachusetts General Hospital, a few floors up, Belle French has been waiting twelve years for a miracle to happen.Sometimes a heart gets a second chance to get it right.
Relationships: Baelfire | Neal Cassidy/Emma Swan, Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Grumpy | Leroy/Nova | Astrid, Mulan/Red Riding Hood | Ruby
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	1. Heartless

**Author's Note:**

> Who knew this is where I'd end up? After a disaster Nano last year, writing seemed like the last thing on my mind but Rumbelle has proved stronger than my self-pity and depression (woo woo!) This story grew from reading a few Rumbelle fics based on movies and loving this one so much that it made sense to try and modify it to fit. Not all the plot points are the same, mostly due to Rum and Milah's rocky relationship, but I tried to keep the spirit of the movie alive.  
> I am a disaster at planning so posting will be random but it's plotted out so there is light at the end and it's sparkly!  
> All thanks to the Rumbelle fandom for being there for me, even if they didn't know it.  
> Also, thank you to [Rana Writes](https://rana-writes.tumblr.com/) for being kind enough to beta this slightly off-kilter AU.  
> Find me on tumblr at [basicallyunicorn](https://basicallyunicorn.tumblr.com/)!

**Chapter 1: Heartless**

  
_In the night I hear 'em talk_  
 _The coldest story ever told_  
 _Somewhere far along this road_  
 _He lost his soul to a woman so heartless_  
~Heartless~ by Kanye West

  
_Boston, Massachusetts_   
_May 8th, 10:30 pm_

Torrential rain made Boston look like an oil painting, all soft lines and blurred edges. Darkness wrapped around the city while street lamps and headlights struggled to hold it at bay. It seemed as if the world was reduced to blocks of color and the relentless storm. For the two individuals inside the shiny black Cadillac speeding over rain-slicked pavement, a different kind of storm was brewing.

“You really just think of yourself, don’t you? No thought to how your outburst would look to my friends!”

“I won’t apologize for telling off that greasy prick!”

“I asked for one night Rumford, one night where you weren’t a temperamental bastard and you couldn’t even give me that!”

“You ask for more than that, my dear!” His hand hit the steering wheel in frustration, a counterpoint to the thrumming of the wiper blades. “You ask me to ignore the stares, the whispers, and the pointed digs while you hang all over that pompous excuse of a playboy!”

A beat of silence echoed like a gunshot through the car. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She crossed her arms and sat back in the seat, looking for all the world like the conversation was over.

“Denial was never your color, Milah.” Slamming his foot against the brake, they skidded to a stop at a red light. “I know all about your little work trips with that fucking rent a cop and I know the only thing getting worked is the mattress.”

“How dare you!” Her voice cracked like lightning inside the hostile interior of the car.

“How dare I? What, did you think you could hide it forever? That I wouldn’t find out that my wife is cheating on me with some lowlife security guard?” The light turned green and he shot across the street with the tires squealing in protest. “All your co-workers know, that’s for damn sure, and you expected me to stand there and play the cuckold like a simpering fool.”

“Which should have been easy since that’s exactly what you are.”

“No, apparently the only thing easy in this marriage is you.”

“What marriage?” Milah laughed and dragged her hand over her face. “I hate you so much it’s hard to breathe.”

“You can leave at any time, dearie,” Rumford smirked but didn’t turn his head, unwilling to face her scorn.

“Yeah, and get nothing but a slamming door in my face thanks to your precious little prenup.”

“‘Tis a comfort in these trying times.” His smirk widened as she screeched in outrage.

The collision caught them both unawares as they glared daggers across the center console. A red pickup truck slammed into the passenger side of the Cadillac and sent it careening across the wet road. Rumford felt as if time slowed so he could watch the look of terror cross Milah’s face before the car flipped and then everything faded to black. 

He woke to flashing lights and the sound of sirens but his eyes wouldn’t focus on any particular image and the pain shooting up his leg held all his attention.

“Sir, just hold still,” a voice said near his shoulder, too close for comfort but he couldn’t find words to complain.

Every movement made him dizzy and he fought down the urge to vomit as he felt his body being lifted up into the air. It took a moment for him to register the inner clutter of an ambulance as the doors slammed shut.

“Sir, your wife is already headed to the hospital. We’ll get you there as soon as we can.”

Nodding seemed like the appropriate thing to do but he clutched at the blankets beneath him as a wave of nausea flooded his body. Two strong arms turned him onto his side as he emptied his stomach of the coconut flaked shrimp and perfectly aged scotch he’d consumed at the party.

_God damn party._

“Sorry about that.” The voice was back, this time with a soft pat on his arm. “We’ll be there soon.”

_Never should have gone._

Milah had insisted, something she rarely did when he resisted her desire for social gatherings and it should have been a red flag that she even wanted his presence. Now, of course, he knew she wanted to rub his nose in her doings and shame him in front of her friends. He’d just found out about Killian Jones, the young security guard for the insurance building where Milah worked, and while he couldn’t muster surprise, anger filled the gaps. He’d agreed to go and take a good look at the man who kept a small condo near the water and, since pictures didn’t lie, occasionally took Milah against the open windows like they had nothing to hide.

He might have kept his temper and saved it for the showdown he’d been planning at home if Milah hadn’t abandoned him at the bar the minute Killian arrived. If the two women next to him hadn’t been so obvious in their amusement at his misfortune, and if Killian hadn’t thrown him that fucking wink like it was some game they were both playing, he might have wrapped his cold-hearted demeanor around him like armor and survived Milah’s torture.

Instead, seething in rage, he’d taken great pleasure in insulting the loud-mouthed bastard, from the cut of his ill-fitted suit to the validity of his parentage, while the rest of the party-goers stared in shock. The look of unbridled fury in Milah’s eyes felt like justice, even as the rage tapered off and left him in a state of exhaustion.

_Just want a moment of fucking peace._

The ambulance ride ended and he closed his eyes against the jostling of his stretcher as he was rolled through the emergency bay doors and into a room that smelled of hospital antiseptic. The smell didn’t help his twisting stomach and the lights made it seem as if his brain was trying to bash its way through his skull. 

“Alright, Mr. Gold, we’ll take care of that leg as soon as we can get into surgery,” said another voice and he turned his head to search for whoever was talking.

A young man wearing a doctor’s coat stood next to the bed, looking down on him with a smile that didn’t quite erase the concern in his eyes.

“For now, let’s see about pain relief and maybe some medication for your nausea.” A small pat on Rumford’s shoulder and the doctor disappeared.

The urge to scream and rage pushed into his mind but as his body rebelled at even the thought of talking, he simply closed his eyes, wondering for perhaps the first time, where they might have taken Milah.

_Massachusetts General Hospital_   
_May 8th, 11:20 pm_

Rain against the window might be her favorite sound, right up there with kitten purrs and the whisper of pages turning or of bacon sizzling against a skillet (not that she’d had bacon in years but she still remembered the pops and crackles as her papa made breakfast in their tiny kitchen and the bacon would be crisp and her eggs too runny but his shy smile enough to make everything perfect). Crispy bacon and runny eggs had long since been replaced by bland oatmeal and watery yogurt but the rain, that she could still enjoy from the relative comfort of her hospital bed, surrounded by warmth while the world outside melted.

“Are you listening to me?” Ruby, her current bedside companion and constantly aggravating best friend, poked her side and waved a glossy magazine cover in front of Belle’s face. “This is an important quiz!”

“What’s your ideal man’s favorite sex position?” She took a slow breath to keep from coughing and waved out over her blanket-covered body. “I hope to hell it’s missionary at this point.”

Ruby giggled and tugged the blanket tighter around Belle’s waist. “Always the smartass, this one.”

Belle cracked a smile but it took some effort to hold it steady. She knew the statistics, the reality of her situation, and no matter how her family and friends kept up with the constant stream of optimism, she was living on borrowed time. The only adventure she’d ever get would be between the pages of her books and she had to be okay with that, had to make sure everyone else remembered to live their lives after she was gone.

Twelve years was a long time to battle against her illness and wait for a heart and the true miracle was that she’d lasted this long in the first place. Belle could feel time slipping away from her, could feel inevitability crouching on her chest and slowly suffocating her, and she knew in her bones that this was her last hospital trip. Her only two options now were a new heart or death.

“Ruby, you have to promise me, dad’s going to be a wreck and you need to watch him for me.” She hated the crushing breathless feeling in her chest as she talked. “Don’t believe him if he says that he’s fine, okay?”

“Oh sweetie, you’re going to be okay,” Ruby said as she brushed a lock of hair back from Belle’s face. “You’re going to get a heart and your dad’s going to be annoyingly protective and Granny will have to chase you out of the kitchen with a broom again.”

A deep breath sent Belle into a coughing fit and Ruby grabbed for the glass of water sitting by the bed. Once she had a sip of water coating her throat, Belle sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“Promise me, Ruby, okay? Just, please.”

“Okay, I promise,” Ruby said, voice soft and full of pain.

The stab of guilt hurt but Belle felt a little bit more centered with the promise granted. It would be hard for them all when she was gone but at least her dad would be taken care of.

“You’re going to get that heart though,” Ruby said, her voice once again solid and confident. “Which means you’re going to find some handsome stud to fall head over heels for you and keep you in the life in which you’ve become accustomed.”

“What, lying in bed all day and having people wait on me constantly?” Belle asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ruby’s laughter filled the small room and for a moment, Belle‘s smile didn’t feel forced.

_Massachusetts General Hospital_   
_May 8th, 12:45 am_

Waking up to beeping machines and the taste of cotton in his mouth, Rumford squinted under the overhead lights and searched his mind for answers. The flood of memory washed over him and he groaned as he remembered the crash and the hospital and the pain in his leg. His head still hurt but it didn’t seem as if he needed to throw up with every movement and he pulled himself into a sitting position. Pulling back the blankets, he took in the sight of his right calf and ankle wrapped in thick gauze and the feeling of numbness stretching down from his hip to his toes. He didn’t have time to figure out his twisting emotional state as a noise at the door drew his attention.

“Oh good, I was hoping to find you awake.” A young man walked in and Rumford recalled his face from earlier, the doctor who’d helped him in the emergency room.

He could read the name tag dangling from the man’s coat as he walked to the side of the bed, proclaiming him to be “Doctor Whale”, and then turned his attention to the small dark-haired woman standing at the door with a clipboard.

“What’s happened?” Rumford asked, his mind already grasping for the answer because the woman didn’t look cheerful and he hadn’t heard a word about Milah.

_She’s dead._

He knew he should be shocked, horrified, unbelieving, but a wave of bone-deep exhaustion was all his body could conjure. Doctor Whale seemed distracted by Rumford’s medical chart, not looking up as the woman stepped to the other side of the bed.

“Hello, Mr. Gold. I’m Doctor Blue and, well, it’s about your wife,” the woman said, kindness oozing from her voice.

“Just tell me.” He threw the words like stones through a glass window.

“We did everything we could but I’m afraid she didn’t make it.”

There was knowing and then there was confirmation and he closed his eyes to let the truth sink in. Milah was dead. She’d escaped him at last. Doctor Blue looked like she wanted to comfort him but he twitched away from her reaching hand and she drew back with a small flinch.

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you but there isn’t a lot of time and we need to know how to proceed.”

Shaking his head, Rumford tried to make sense of her words. “What?”

“Do you know if she had any wishes, about what she’d want in the event of her death?”

“Yeah, that I’d go first,” Rumford muttered, guilt sliding into his chest at the words.

That seemed to shock both doctors and they looked at each other for a moment before Whale went back to his checks and Blue cleared her throat.

“Right, well I was speaking more about organ donation,” she said with a glance at her clipboard. “As I said, time is of the essence.”

Thinking about Milah and what she would prefer, Rumford was sure she’d laugh and sneer at the idea of something as selfless as donating her organs to help others.

_She’s dead, no more sneers, no more fights._

“As her spouse, you have the final say since there's nothing on record,” Blue said and held out the clipboard. “This is the consent form and if you sign, Milah will have a chance to help so many.”

_She’d scoff and call you a fool._

Words should have been his weapon against this onslaught of information and confusing emotions but he couldn’t bring himself to do more than nod. Rumford’s hands shook as he took the clipboard but his signature looked clear and final against the white of the form. Dr. Blue took it back with a soft smile and he turned to face the wall, closing his eyes while the sound of her steps faded away.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dr. Whale said, his voice quiet amongst the beeps of equipment and the droning of the hospital paging system.

Keeping his eyes closed, Rumford nodded and swallowed against the lump in his throat. If he opened his mouth, he might not be able to stop the words sitting on the edge of his tongue.

_How do I tell my son that she’s dead? How do I tell Bae that I killed his mother?_

Dr. Whale shifted against the bed. “I’ll give you a minute and then be back to check on your leg.”

Even nodding felt like too much and when the doctor finally left, Rumford clenched his hands in the sheets and gave in to the crushing weight of his guilt, letting it sink him to the bottom of his own self-hatred.

_Massachusetts General Hospital_   
_May 8th, 1:30 am_

“I’ll be in the room the entire time, alright?” Dr. Blue told her, holding Belle’s hand and smiling as if her own prayers had been answered. “Everyone in this hospital is rooting for you, so let’s not disappoint them.”

Belle nodded and looked towards Ruby who clung to her other hand with tears in her eyes even as she smiled like it was Christmas again. They were wheeling her through the hallway and it all seemed a dream, even with the glare of the lights and the ache in her chest. A new heart, a chance for a life she thought ended years ago, and it was all she could do to keep the tears back and be brave.

“And you’re sure my dad’s on his way?” Belle asked, looking at Ruby in a panic. “They won’t start until I see him, right?”

Dr. Blue, or Rhoda as she kept insisting Belle call her, gave her hand a pat. “They’ll wait for him, I promise.”

As if her worry summoned him into the hospital, her father appeared beside her bed, and Ruby stepped back so he could grab her hand and bring it to his mouth.

“Oh my darling girl, how are you holding up?” Moe French looked ready to collapse but the strength of his grip was enough to ground Belle to reality.

“I’m good,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper. “How are you?”

“So happy I could sing.”

“Please don’t,” Belle said, squeezing his hand at the joke. “You’ll put the other patients off their meds.”

Moe chuckled, a weak and watery noise. “Yeah, wouldn’t want that. You go get that heart of yours. I’ll be here when you get back.”

“Just hold my purse.”

“I’ll do that.”

He gave her hand one last squeeze and then let go as her gurney bumped open the set of doors leading to the surgical rooms and she watched her family disappear from view.

_A new heart, after all this time. It doesn’t feel real._

“Someone died for this,” Belle whispered, too overcome by the wave of emotions to curb her tongue.

Dr. Blue stopped the gurney and looked at her. “When this is all over, you can think about that, but right now, you concentrate on what this means for you and your family. This is a very good thing, okay Belle?”

Nodding her agreement, she pushed the thoughts of another family receiving the heartbreaking news about their loved one away and centered her mind on her father’s shaking smile and hopeful eyes. This was a good thing.

Time moved in spurts of activity as the nurses prepped her for surgery, Dr. Blue explained the procedure and the surgeon came in to explain everything again while equipment was cataloged. A sheet fell between her head and the rest of her body and she couldn’t stop the way her broken heart pounded in her chest. As the anesthesia hit her system, Belle let out a long breath and closed her eyes.

_Please, let this be real._


	2. A Hungry Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Year Later: After recovering from surgery, Belle is working for Granny Lucas at her diner. Rumford has moved to a small town in Maine to hide from the ghosts of Boston. Isn't it time these two met?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may hate myself in a few chapters as I search for more songs with the word "heart" in them that relate to what's happening...but for now, it makes me smile :P  
> Thanks for sticking with this slow posting story! Comments are love!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [basicallyunicorn](https://basicallyunicorn.tumblr.com/) because I am always so down to yell about Rumbelle.

_Everybody's got a hungry heart_  
_Everybody's got a hungry heart_  
_Lay down your money and you play your part_  
_Everybody's got a hungry heart_  
Hungry Heart ~ Bruce Springsteen

  
_One Year Later_  
_Storybrooke, Maine_

“He slithered his way into MY town and bought those properties out from under ME! What he wants isn’t on my to-do list!” Regina slammed her phone onto the counter and Belle winced in sympathy for the poor device.

“So, more coffee?” Belle waved the pot in the mayor’s field of vision. “Or did you need to beat up your phone some more?”

Regina scoffed but pushed her cup closer to the edge of the table. “Coffee with less attitude would be just fine, thank you.”

“Oh, the attitudes are on the house, mayor, like always,” Ruby said as she slid by Belle with a tray of hamburgers. “All part of the full service.”

Trying not to snort at her friend’s cheeky answer, Belle gave Regina a quick grin and darted back behind the counter. While she appreciated everything the mayor did to keep their town in a safe and orderly manner, there was something about seeing the woman frazzled and frustrated that sent her into a fit of giggles. Regina Mills had a way of making it seem like any little disruption to Storybrooke was a dramatic plot against her and it caused no shortage of amusement to the townsfolk who watched her stomp and scheme like a Disney villain until order was restored.

“Belle, once you finish with the coffee, could you check and see if we have any online orders?” Ruby gave her a pat on the shoulder when Belle nodded and called back to the kitchen. “This spaghetti was supposed to have cheddar cheese, not parmesan! I need a new plate!”

“Who puts cheddar on spaghetti? What am I running here? A Chuck E Cheese?”

Smiling as Ruby and Granny argued through the window, a scene so normal that none of the customers even raised their heads to the noise, Belle headed to the dinosaur of a computer that served as the diner’s one nod to the changing world and checked the online delivery orders. There were a grand total of three entries and Belle’s eyes widened since it was two more than normal. From the matching requests for chicken soup and cans of lemon-lime soda, she decided that being sick was a good reason not to stop in and say hi to everyone at Granny’s. 

_Good,_ Belle thought with a pleased smile. _At least I can point to the cold and flu season as another reason for the website._

Pulling Granny Lucas into the current century was like pulling teeth from a rooster. The last order, a request for a hamburger with extra pickles and a side salad, no croutons, was one she’d been waiting for. Sending the three orders to the printer (because even if people could now use the power of the internet for their dinner requests, the kitchen still took paper tickets), Belle passed them through the window.

“Might want to throw some ginger spice in the chicken soups, helps clear the sinus,” Belle offered as Granny pinned the orders to her board. “And Mr. Gold didn’t appreciate you trying to spruce up his salad last time.”

Poking her head around to glower at Belle, Granny shook a pair of tongs at her. “He wants delivery, he’ll take his food how I make it.”

Belle shook her head and left the woman to her work. So far, all Belle knew of Mr. Gold were his eating habits. He liked his pasta and sauce kept separate, extra pickles on his burgers, no dressing on his salads, and he never stepped foot in the diner. Granny said it was because he’d been able to gobble up the Bed and Breakfast property from the late Mr. Zosco, but she owned the diner outright and the miserable miser felt cheated. With the looks Granny gave whenever Gold’s name was mentioned, Belle wondered if maybe he just didn’t want to deal with people.

_I can understand that just fine._

She thanked the stars every day that she’d made it through to the other side of her heart transplant and she had a life again but still, even miracles have their price. While she’d never been a vain person, she couldn’t help but try and hide the long scar that ran through the middle of her chest with layers of cover-up, turtlenecks, and high collar cardigans. She hated the staring and the way people would open their mouths, ready to ask their questions, and then clam up as if she were some fragile trinket, too delicate to upset. 

“Hey princess, you going to stand there and daydream, or are you going to help?” Ruby bumped her out of the way to grab another set of plates from the window.

Belle grinned. At least Ruby never treated her like fine china, she could live with that. As she moved to help refill drinks around the diner, their delivery driver, August stumbled through the door, giving a giant sneeze into the sleeve of his brand new motorcycle jacket. He’d saved up tips for months to purchase the thing and his pride as he zipped through the streets of Storybrooke on his little blue scooter brought a smile to Belle’s face (one she hid behind her hands as the teenage boy could be prickly if he thought someone was poking fun at his expense).

“What do you think you’re doing? You can’t come in here if you’re sick!” Ruby pointed toward the door. “Out, out, go home and rest. We’ll figure out the deliveries.”

As a testament to August’s deteriorated state of mind, he didn’t argue with Ruby as she pushed him back through the doors and into the street.

“Great,” Ruby said with a sigh, coming back inside. “And with Ashley out on maternity leave, I can’t even borrow Sean’s truck.”

“I could do the deliveries,” Belle offered, pointing out the window towards her bright yellow bicycle.

It might not be a motorized scooter, but she loved the old fashioned bike with its charming bell and a wicker basket big enough to hold her favorite books. It would be large enough for the three food deliveries. The errant thought that it might be her chance to finally meet the mysterious Mr. Gold, that she kept to herself.

“Your dad would kill me if he found out I let you visit the sick and deranged.” Rubbing her calf with the toe of her shoe, Ruby bit her lip. “We could always call them and say there’s no delivery today.”

Crossing her arms, Belle glared at her friend. “No, don’t even think about it. If you start adopting my father’s overprotective streak, I’ll put your red stilettos through the wood chipper.”

Ruby’s face paled at the threat. She’d seen Belle use that wood chipper to great effect on her father’s dead rose bushes.

“It’s three stops and I’ll be back in time to help with the after-dinner cleanup,” Belle said with a bright smile as if the matter were settled.

Ruby opened her mouth to make another argument but then closed it as if remembering her threatened shoes. “Fine, say something nice at my funeral.” She walked into the back while Belle clapped her hands and grabbed her coat from the rack beside the door. 

After her transplant and the subsequent healing period, Belle had envisioned a life of adventure and discovery, a time to do all the things she’d once thought impossible from the confines of her hospital bed. The first time she’d brought up the idea of a cross country road trip to her father, he’d turned the color of sour milk and promptly collapsed into his chair like a puppet with cut strings.

It took two cups of tea and an impressive slice of Granny’s chocolate cake for his color to come back and in that time, Belle learned about insurance policies, extended care limits, and the cost of a new heart. They were both crying by the end and when Moe apologized for the third time about the state of their finances, Belle wiped the tears from her eyes, pushed down the raging disappointment, and promised to help.

Now she took her adventures where she could and if today was the day she might finally Mr. Gold of the extra pickles and dry salads, it would at least be a break in the normal her life had become.

_Things will look better after a cup of tea._

His Aunt Gerta’s favorite phrase for all of life’s little hiccups still resonated with Rumford, often as the desire for something stronger came knocking at his brain. Instead of grabbing for his whiskey bottle, he would grab the kettle instead and brew enough cups of strong black tea to satisfy his aunt’s adage. Bae didn’t like him drinking alone and he would honor that request even when guilt and anger twisted in his gut. Glaring at the electric kettle on the counter didn’t make it boil faster but it helped to redirect his churning emotions into less destructive methods.

Rumford wasn’t sure when exactly he’d turned into a bitter and vindictive old man. He had memories of happy times, times when he smiled and laughed and enjoyed the company of others. He had Bae to remind him of the good things he could do in his life. As the years passed, however, it seemed his whole life turned into a battle, a constant game of hurt and ridicule between Milah and himself where winning was temporary and the war never-ending. Even if he never said anything, Bae had to have felt the strain of his parent’s relationship, and that brought crushing guilt to crowd out the pain.

_Won the war by default, I suppose._

Milah’s death wrecked him, though not quite in the same way others might have suspected. He’d gone through the motions of the grieving husband and dutiful father while he watched Bae came to terms with the fact that his mother was dead. Mother and son had never been close but it was a loss and Bae’s compassion for others would always outshine the apathy of his father. While Rumford planned the funeral and wake and kept up appearances through pure willful determination, Bae gave a heartfelt eulogy about moments missed and cried tears over her coffin. 

In the dead of night when he woke to the painful spasms of his still-healing ankle, Rumford placed a hand over his heart and wished it could grow as numb as the rest of him. With Milah in the ground, his duties were over and he retreated to their lavish penthouse to lick his wounds in private. He took his pain pills and crawled into a whiskey bottle, drinking until darkness swept away his guilt and regret.

Three weeks later, if Bae hadn’t come home on an unplanned visit and found him a wasted mess, Rumford wasn’t sure how far down that road he might have fallen.

****  
_He barely registered the bang of the door against the wall but he felt two strong arms pick him up and begin to carry him towards the bathroom. His ankle felt like fire and thunder crashed in his head._

_“I won’t lose you too!”_

_Bae’s anger and fear and tear-filled eyes hit his gut and Rumford stumbled to his feet on the cold tile, barely making it to the toilet before spewing his guts into the bowl. Weak and shivering and in agony, Rumford closed his eyes before he could read the disgust in Bae’s face._

_“Sure, just sit there and wallow.” Bae’s sneering voice was such a close imitation of Milah’s condescending tone that Rumford burst into tears before he could realize what he was feeling._

_“Goddammit! No! I’m not doing this on the bathroom floor so you’re just going to have to pull your shit together for like, five fucking minutes!” Bae pushed a glass of water into his hand. “Then we’re going to talk and mostly you’re going to listen, and I’m going to yell because I’m so mad I could break things.”_

_Rumford only nodded and drank his water and sorted out his emotions enough to stop the trail of tears. This was it, the moment where he lost Bae and finally disappeared in a pile of dust and ash._

_The hand on his shoulder surprised him and Rumford looked up to see his son's beloved face, tears streaming down his cheeks._

_“Please, don’t do this to yourself.” The breaking sound in Bae’s voice brought a fresh bout of tears and Rumford could only nod._  
****

Bae ended up taking care of him with breakfast and tea and a long talk about forgiveness that would not have been out of place in a confessional booth. Talking of regret and mistakes, Rumford grabbed for the hand Bae stretched out across the kitchen island and while Milah’s ghost still lingered in the space between them, he wanted to build back the wreckage he’d made of his relationship with his son.

Rumford’s first step was leaving the chaos of the big city and searching for a home more to his liking. Boston had been Milah’s style and he wanted nothing to do with it beyond trips to visit Bae and perhaps the odd theatre production. Storybrooke fell into his lap like there was some diety up there still listening to the prayers of a washed-up sinner like him. An old landowner had died a few weeks ago and there were no family members coming out of the woods to stake a claim on the numerous properties now up for repossession. It might not have been the stretch of prestigious Boston real estate he’d once lorded over but Bae called it a new beginning, free from the memory of his past world. Rumford had asked if Bae was going to tell his friends he’d had his father sent to a farm up north. He could still recall Bae’s laugh and it lifted his spirits even with his son hours away now instead of minutes. He needed to find a way to live with himself again and not succumb to the crushing weight of his failures as a man and father.

His doorbell rang as the kettle started boiling and he turned off the heat before making his way to the door, grabbing his cane on the way. Only one person would be at his door at this time and he smiled as he recalled August’s excitement over purchasing his new jacket.

“Is it everything you’d hoped for?” Rumford asked as he opened the door and then stared in confusion at the stranger on his porch.

“I’m sorry, what?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

Rumford's tongue grew heavy and slow as her velvet-soft voice with its lilting accent washed over him. He took in her pale skin, the tumbling chestnut hair, bright blue eyes, and red lips currently curled into a smile. She looked small and sweet in her dark blue peacoat, a knee-length dress with yellow flowers peeking out underneath the hem. He couldn’t draw up a single reason in his mind as to why this enchanting woman currently occupied his front porch. The silence stretched and her smile faded.

“Um, August is sick so I’m doing deliveries today,” she said, holding up the familiar brown bag marked with the logo of the local diner.

The sight of the bag broke whatever trance she’d cast over him and Rumford nodded. “Okay.”

_Wow, excellent. What a lovely conversationalist you are._

She shuffled on her feet and tucked a curling strand of hair behind her ear. “So, that’ll be fourteen fifty.”

“It’s normally seventeen even,” Rumford said with a frown.

_Yes, good. Argue with the pretty girl like a complete jackass._

His heart skipped a beat when her cheeks went red and she shrugged her shoulders.

“I took off the charge for extra pickles,” she said, leaning in as if sharing a secret. “It seemed kind of petty.”

He couldn’t get his mouth to form words while her eyes twinkled with amusement and he resorted to pulling out a handful of bills from his wallet, thrusting them towards her like a wrinkly bouquet of green.

She traded the bag for the cash with another soft curling smile and then began counting out the bills.

“Just keep the change,” he muttered quickly. “Thank you.”

Before she could answer, Rumford stepped back into his house and closed the door. With the bag of food in one hand and his cane in the other, he leaned against the wall and dropped his head back with a loud thump.

“Are you alright?”

At the sound of her voice, he almost dropped his cane as he jumped away from the wall. A bewildering mix of panic and warmth flooded through him at her concerned words.

“I’m fine, thank you. Have a good evening.” He waited to hear her footsteps down the stairs before he groaned and moved to the window.

Pulling back the curtains, he watched her climb onto a rickety old bicycle and pedal off down the street, the tails of her coat billowing behind her.

_Fantastic, another person now convinced you’re an old nutter._

The idea wouldn’t normally have bothered him. In a town this small, a reputation for seclusion suited him just fine, but his heart ached at the fact that the sweet woman with such a cheerful smile and twinkling eyes would now have every reason to avoid him. Shaking his head at the melancholy seeping into his thoughts, Rumford moved to the dining room and pushed aside the stack of folders spread out along the table. Once he’d assembled his dinner, complete with a cup of milky tea and a spritz of malt vinegar over his salad, he sat and ate while he worked through the newest set of “necessary” paperwork Mayor Mills had delivered to his home this afternoon. If his mind drifted back every so often to his encounter with the young woman on his porch, he would blame it on the pedantic nature of his work and take another sip of tea.


End file.
